Berlin
by Chef Erica
Summary: The second in the 'Chance Encounters' series, it is a little bit darker that the last, but i hope you still like it. Please R&R, I love feedback.


Belgium, 1918

            Marguerite Smith, at least that is what she called herself this week, sat in the small café, one of the last one's standing, waiting for her contact. She ignored the shinning eyes of young soldiers as they passed, unable to look them in the face. She wondered which ones would die because of the information she gathered for the British government.

            "Frauline Smith?" a timid voice asked. Marguerite looked up to see a young woman, no older than 20, standing, starring at her. 

            "Ya?" she questioned in German. 

            The girl sighed in relief. "Thank goodness I've found you," she exclaimed in a hushed French accent. Marguerite eyed her suspiciously. A strange turn of events, in this line of work she didn't like surprises. "I'm Angeliq, your contact's cover was blown and he had to return to England before they found him. He asked me to deliver this message to you, and if you have any other information to relay to headquarters, your new contact will be in Belgium with the month." 

            She slipped an envelope into Marguerite's book, then stood and excused herself. "I wish I could join you for tea, but I promised father I would help him this afternoon."

            After the girl was gone she sat for a moment in silence. She saw Herr Hans hiding behind an outdated newspaper when she came in. He wasn't a very good spy, but as the head of security in Berlin, he wasn't stupid, and had been following her everywhere. The only respite she got was when he took to the skies.

            She slipped the note out of her copy of Pride and Prejudiceand stood to leave. 

            "Frauline Smith," Herr Hans called as he stood to follow her. He gripped her upper arm and guided her down the rubble-strewn street. She waited for him to continue, but he remained silent.

            "Is there something I can help you with or do you just like stalking innocent women?"

            "You are anything but innocent, Frauline. Now, what were you talking to that young girl about?"  
  


            "Her mother is a friend of mine, she just came to tell me that she had a baby last night. A bouncing baby boy, with blue eyes just like her father, and dark hair, just like her mother."

            "How nice, and what did that note she slipped you say?"

            "What note?"

            He snatched the novel from her and shook it violently, only succeeding and tearing the book apart. He starred in disgust at the mess on the ground as page 150 drifted to the ground, "Where did it go?" He dropped to his knees and began rummaging through the loose sheets, but finding nothing.

            "Thank you for destroying my favorite book. I'm sure that my fiancé will be interested to hear how you've treated me while on this little excursion. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to pack for my trip back to Berlin."

            "You may have the Head of Intelligence fooled, but I'm on to you, I'll see you hang for your treason."

            Marguerite ignored his last comment as she walked away. She hoped that this new assignment sent her to Africa or Siberia for the rest of the War. Anything to get this man off her tail.

***

            When she reached her room she pulled the note out of her bodice. "What do I have to do now?"

Marguerite,

Forces in France have been pushed back. Casualties are high, and many were captured. Your assignment is to return to Berlin and retrieve Major Lord John Roxton if he is still alive and bring him to Paris. From there a member of a small resistance will contact you. Major Roxton will be returned to command and you will be escorted back to London to receive your next assignment.

Good Luck,

Winnie

            She read the note twice more to commit it to memory, then lit it with her candle.

            "If the Roxton fellow _is_ still alive and I get caught with him, Hans may very well get his wish."

***

            That night Marguerite slipped out of her room carrying a small satchel and derringer pistol tucked away in her belt. As she made her way through the shadows of the war torn street she heard voices. 

            Marguerite crept to a corner and peeked around, shocked to find Hans holding a fistful of Angeliq's hair as she pled for mercy.

            "I know nothing, please let me go?" she cried.

            "There is no mercy for traitors," he spat, then threw her on the ground. Before Marguerite could react, Hans shot Angeliq point blank, silencing her cries forever.

            Knowing there was nothing she could do for the innocent girl, she swiftly maneuvered through the rubble away from her nemesis. She just prayed that she made it back to Berlin before Hans.

***

            Major Lord John Roxton sat in an 'interrogation' room, his arms tied behind the back of the chair. He didn't think there was a part of his body that wasn't bruised and battered. He was exhausted after hours of beatings. German soldiers came and went, some hit him, some jeered, and some spit in his face. 

            His head was slumped down against his chest, a stream of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and one of his eyes was swollen shut, the other not far behind. His mind drifted back to the battlefield. In his mind's eye he could see his men as they fell, one by one, and could smell the stench of artillery fire mixed with blood and death.  

            Now he just waited for someone to come and end his suffering.

***

            Marguerite made it back to Berlin in record time. She had been in and out of the country so many times in the past months that she had made friends in many of the farming communities, and easily found people willing to help her flight, though not many knew that her allegiances lay under a different flag.

            Once in Berlin she made her way to the lavish home she shared with Germany's Head of Intelligence. She smiled at how easily she had conned her way into his affections. Men were so predictable.

            Marguerite quietly entered his study and began searching for evidence that the man she was to retrieve was alive somewhere in the vicinity. It didn't take long to find what she was looking for. He was scheduled to be executed in two days because he refused to reveal what he knew of the American offensive being mounted since they had joined the war.

            The door across the room swung open, taking Marguerite by surprise. She quickly shoved papers away and stuck the now folded note down her shirt. Her 'fiancé' entered, deeply engrossed in the stack of documents he was reading. 

            "Guten tag, mien Herr," she greeted cheerily. 

            "Marguerite, you're back early, how was Belgium?" 

            "It was overrun with dirty peasants."

            "I warned you, but you insisted. Never fear though, my pet. When we've crushed the resistance I will build you a palace fit for a queen in the south of France."

            "I look forward to the day, but until then, I must wash up and prepare for supper."

            "I'll see you then. Oh, and I've invited Hans to dine with us this evening."

            She was glad her back was to him, because he would have seen right through her expression. She plastered a smile on her face, then turned back, "Wonderful, he is always such a pleasure."

***

            She waited until sundown to sneak away. She didn't trust the servants any more than she did Hans. 

            Marguerite stole a plate of food from the kitchen on her way out, then made her way to the building her charge was being held at. 

***

            The guard was now fast asleep. She had to hand it to Fritz, he could roast a mean duck, and the powder she sprinkled over it didn't hurt any either, she thought as she listened to him snore.

            Down the hall and through an open door she found the badly beaten Major Roxton strapped to a chair. 

            She gently tapped his cheek to wake him up. He jerked away, mumbling something that sounded a lot like "I'm not telling you anything," through a swollen, possibly broken jaw.

            "Relax, I'm here to get you out of this place."

            His head snapped up at the distinctly feminine voice, but both of his eyes were swollen shut, and he was unable to see her. "Who are you?"

            "We don't have time for introductions, I'll explain later." She quickly untied him and helped him to stand. "We have to get out of here before his relief comes."

            She supported him as they made their way out of the small building, then away from the city in the wagon she had 'borrowed' from a local stable. It was going to be a very long journey to Paris.

***

            I took nearly two weeks to make the trip, and it was full of near misses, but Marguerite felt tears of joy when Paris came into view from the train's boxcar. Roxton's fever hadn't broken, but his temperature had reduced significantly, which was another weight off her shoulders. 

            As soon as the train stopped she was off, and had two men helping her unload her 'invalid husband,' whose face was wrapped in bandages because of an accident with a mine in their field. When she got into the city she found a room in a boarding house already waiting for her. 

"Good old Winnie," she murmured.

            A note attached to the wall above the inside of the closet door told her where to meet her contact, and as soon as Roxton was settled in the bed she left to find the bordello. 

***

            Roxton sat up in the uncomfortable bed and removed the wrappings from around his eyes. He didn't remember how he got here, but he was sure he owed someone his life. He did have a vague memory of a woman untying him and dragging him out of Berlin, and a woman's voice comforting him, but other than that it was all a blank. 

            A quick look around the room and he spotted a carpetbag. He struggled to stand. His first attempt was an utter failure. He grabbed his head as spots formed in front of his eyes. "Whoa, head rush. I've been laying down for way too long." 

            He was finally able to stand, and slowly made his way to the table. The bag lay open, and he began riffling through it. He found identification papers with several different names. "Hmm, I wonder who my savior is?"

            "That, Major Lord Roxton, is confidential." He spun around shocked, and reaching for a nonexistent side arm. "Relax, sir. You have been safely delivered to Paris by the best spy in the business. Unfortunately to do so she had to blow a deep undercover operation, and we won't be able to replace her."

            "How did we get here?"

            "By train mostly. Miss Smith is very resourceful."

            "Where is she?"

            "She is probably on her way to the train station to be sent to London. Mr. Churchill is most eager to see her, and I am to escort you back to London to be briefed and ready for the new offensive. Command is eager to have you back."

***

            They stood on the platform waiting for the incoming train to chug to a halt when he heard her. The voice from his hallucinations. 

            Frantically he searched for the owner of the voice, turning this way and that while supporting himself with the cane he was given. His companion looked at him, annoyed by his sudden change in behavior.

            "What are you doing?"

            "I heard her, the woman that saved me. She's here."

            "I know that, but you aren't to meet her, it is a matter of national security. If you were to be captured again, it is crucial that her identity remain a secret. She is not expendable."

            Roxton sighed in defeat, but looked up just in time to hear her laugh. At first all he saw was a mass of dark, beautiful curls, but she turned slightly to look at him, giving him his only glimpse of his guardian angel.


End file.
